


Goodbye Blue Sky

by Sweaters (Guhs)



Series: Arnick Galentine [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, Minor Personality Tweaks, Nick Valentine Waits Around for No Sole, Possible Eventual Relationship, Post-Canon (New Vegas), Relocation, Some Humor, The Sidekicks Hold Their Own In This One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 11:57:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guhs/pseuds/Sweaters
Summary: Arcade Gannon left the Mojave years ago; now he's looking for somewhere to start over.





	Goodbye Blue Sky

Navarro. The Enclave. The Followers. The NCR, the Legion, the Mojave. Freeside. New Vegas.

Courier Six.

He couldn’t live with his own failure, and where did that lead him? Back to nowhere.  
  


After leaving the Mojave, he’d spend some time in Chicago - what was left of it. It was a shithole, full of filth, murder, and desolation. So not so different from Freeside, all told. But the constant firefights and stabbings kept him busy, and he got some caps out of it. Maybe a few extra scars as well, but when he was thinking clearly, he supposed that a few blemishes were a small price to pay for the preservation of his life.

Then when he moved on, he settled in the ruins of D.C. for a while, kept a room out in Rivet City. The place actually had clean water filtered out of the Potomac, and even now he couldn’t fucking believe it. Of all the places Arcade had been outside of the Strip, it was the most civilized and developed piece of wasteland he’d ever had the pleasure of encountering. But like all things, that, too, ended. So he went south, looking for warmth, for people. For a purpose.

He found himself landed in the Commonwealth, almost as colorful and nearly as warm as the place he had left all that time ago. Here, they had a major city built inside of a ballpark and people actually seemed to be doing… okay? The mutants didn’t run as rampant as they had in the Capital. No godawful centaurs to be seen. Just giant bugs, and having lived with the Cazadores and the other cuddly winged friends back west, he could certainly handle that. It was nothing a little fire couldn’t cure.

For a while, there were almost too many raiders to comfortably slip past. He had more than his share of close calls, at some points had to resort to a few well-placed mines and other explosives, but he always managed to keep going, if just by the skin of his (very well-crafted) nose. But after a while, the roaming got old. He wasn’t like his Courier back west; lone wandering wasn’t a life he strived for. Maybe once upon a time, but… Not now. Not anymore. He was too old for that shit.

So when he finally made more than perfunctory use of the Pip-Boy bequeathed to him all that time ago, Arcade wandered the stations. _ Radio New Vegas_, nothing but static. No crooning from Mister New Vegas, nothing from Kay Kyser or Peggy Lee. _ Diamond City Radio_… a nice break from the silence. He let it play low until he moved on, and tuned in again when he reached his next camp. It was only then, as he adjusted into his tiny safe spot under a canopy between two wrecked cars, that he read a new frequency. _ 101.1 MHz. _He could only get it to come through clear if he stuck his arm halfway out of the canopy.

_ “Attention Commonwealth residents. Are you looking for a safe place to settle? Home in on these coordinates. If you're willing to work hard, you can make the Commonwealth a better place.” _

Static. A beep - “_Hail, Columbia_.” Enclave music. Surely there weren’t still any members of the Enclave left out here? Especially not as young as that guy sounded.

Could be a trap. Probably a trap. But for some reason, he couldn’t shake it. It kept him up, followed him during his travels the next day. He just _ couldn’t _ get it off his mind; what if there actually was an Enclave settlement still out here? What if his connections would actually be _ beneficial, _for once? Something that wouldn’t get him killed, but rather would find him sanctuary?

It was under the dark cover of a half-demolished building that afternoon that he finally keyed the coordinates into the map of his Pip-Boy. It marked a section far northwest, up near the tip of the Commonwealth barrier. Maybe a day or two to walk if he left now. And why not? He didn’t have anything else keeping him here, wandering, scavenging, running from big-ass mutant fucking dogs that seemed to think his ass looked like a juicy tenderloin.

Well… maybe it still did. But that was beside the point.

He corrected his course shortly thereafter, letting the dotted line of the waypoint guide him through impossible paths that surely must have thought the city was still in its pre-war state. It had him stop at intersections that didn’t even exist, wanted him to climb over stories-high piles of rubble and shit. The points of interest still happened to be useful, however. A diner still contained pretty decent boxed food and drink at the cost of a couple of cartridges to dispatch some roaches. A historic bridge still proved pretty valuable, despite the giant rift in the middle and the boat full of mutants underneath. Maybe this fancy little personal computer _ did _have its uses, after all this time he had spent resenting its excessive nature.

“Hey!”

Arcade's idle mental rambling was interrupted by a harsh whisper. “Who-”

“Keep it down! Get over here unless you wanna get made!” He found himself directed to a dark figure crouched behind a short fence; a trenchcoat and hat were all he managed to make out. Nevertheless, he obliged. If he was gonna get murdered, he could at least commend the balls behind the boldness of the action.  
“What are you-”  
“Shh.” The man held a finger up to his mouth, and the sight of it made his blood run cold. It was a _ digit _more than a finger -- a metal claw seemed a more apt name for it, not unlike the ones from those old gimmicky machines in arcades. This was to say nothing about the state of his face, either.

_ Best not to question it right now_, he decided.

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, a few raiders came into sight just over the hill. Loud, abrasive, and he could definitely smell them from here -- nice to know that some things stay the same. Five in total, traveling in a pack and obnoxiously celebrating one thing or another.

“_Did you see the look on that bitch’s face?_”  
“What _ face? All I saw was a puddle of molten shit! We definitely need to switch over to all energy weapons._”  
“_Guys, are we not gonna talk about the loot? Those fuckers were _ ** _loaded._**”

This spawned a sound of disgust from Trenchcoat, who now took it upon himself to pull out a pistol. As he readjusted, the light hit his face; metal, or something like it. A large chunk missing from the side. Ghastly. Unnerving yellow eyes. Borderline terrifying, but… Arcade couldn’t help being a bit intrigued by it.

Probably not the time for that, actually.

“You in the mood for a firefight?” Trenchcoat asked, fixing those glowing yellow eyes on the good doctor for just a moment.  
“Not- not particularly,” he replied, earning another ‘_shhh!_’. “Jesus, do you want me to respond or not?”  
“You got an ‘inside voice’?” Arcade could barely grumble a response. The group came closer and closer, eventually drawing the attention of someone up on a roof just across the street. A quick glance at the Pip-Boy showed that this place was once known as _ Layton Towers._

“_You guys already done with that mark?_”  
“_Yeah, piece of cake. Meeting for the payout tomorrow night. Library or somewhere, pretty sure. You gotta let us in or what? Fuckin’ sitting ducks out here._"  
“_Yeah, yeah. Keep your dicks on._”

The gate out front was shoved open by a couple other raiders and shut just as quick. The obnoxious antics continued just as loudly, but at least now they didn’t have to smell the bastards.

“So, no firefight after all?”

Trenchcoat relaxed after what must’ve been a few more minutes, finally lowering his pistol and actually acknowledging this perfect stranger he had roped into his business. “Not right now; I got what I needed.” He turned away to take a quick survey of the area and suddenly began sneaking off with no signal other than a sharp beckon with his head. Arcade may not be as stocky as the average wastelander, but he wasn’t exactly _ built _for sneak; being 6’5” doesn’t really lend itself to stealth.

Still, they managed. Once they were well out of sight and could only hear the yelling of the raiders in passing, Trenchcoat finally straightened up, holstered his pistol. They were in an alley now, nestled just out of sight. He seemed to think this was a good time to light up a cigarette; Arcade did not.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I’m working on a case, been following a lead for a while. You wandered right into a stakeout - good thing, too; those raiders probably woulda turned you into dust.” Those glowing eyes seemed to make a sweep of the good doctor; he couldn’t tell if he needed to feel insulted or not.

“A- stakeout? What, like… you’re a cop or something? In this day and age?” He couldn’t help the little grin that tried to make its way to the surface. “Charming.”

“Detective, actually. I take all the cases security won’t. Which… is basically all of them, now that I think about it.” The tip of the cigarette burned bright, a puff of smoke came out. Absolutely mystifying. Trenchcoat looked like a whole goddamn robot, why would he have anything even resembling lungs? Was this some fucked up east coast experiment he was never privy to?

The staring seemed to catch his new acquaintance’s attention. No anger that he could see - in fact, the guy looked more… amused?

“What’s the matter? Never seen a synth before?”  
“A wh- a _ synth_? Short for synthetic?”  
“Well, well. Somebody’s read a dictionary.” Trenchcoat chuckled, took another drag. “Synthetic human. A lifelike robot, colloquially.”

Arcade blinked. He was dumbfounded. If his Intelligence level ever happened to be quantified, it would have dropped to a solid 1 just then. Good thing nobody counts Intelligence points, right? “You’re a robot?”

He couldn’t parse the expression that pulled out of the detective. Something like concern, with a bit of pity on the back end. “Uh… yeah, I know the bare metal hand, glowing eyes, and ripped-up face is all really misleading, but believe it or not, I’m not actually human.” The next drag seemed a little bit more distressed. _ Whoops._ Looks like he made himself look like an actual moron. “So, you’re not from the Commonwealth. What brings you out here?”

“What makes you say I’m not from the Commonwealth?”

“You’re too tan to come from a place this overcast. And… everyone around here knows what synths are, for better or worse. Definitely got nothing to do with the fish-outta-water look you got going on.”

“The fish-” Now he _ was _insulted. He couldn’t have at least picked something less ugly? “Alright. I’m from out west - the Mojave. Looking for something new. Fresh start. The same thing that makes anyone leave their home.” Arcade shrugged. “And some protagonist interference, I guess.”

“Hah. I know a thing or two about that; got one of those, myself. What was their schtick?”  
“Two to the head delivering a mysterious package. Yours?”  
“Frozen in a vault for two-hundred years.”  
“I think my protagonist could beat up your protagonist.” Both men cracked a grin at this; the synth seemed a little more dignified in just laughing it off.

“Maybe so. That’s a theory for another time.” He took one last drag off the cigarette, clipping the ashen tip and stuffing the last quarter back in the pack. “Gotta get going back to the office if I wanna wrap this case up in time. You heading to Diamond City?”

“Actually, I was heading up a little further northwest. Someplace called Sanctuary. You know it?”  
“I can do you one better: I know the guy who runs the place. Not a bad place to settle down, good people. Not a charity, though, you gotta pull your weight. You happen to have any skills?”  
“Just twenty, thirty-some-odd years of medical experience.”  
“For that, you might just get a penthouse suite.” The detective pulled out his pistol again, stepping out of the alley just enough to take in the sights. “If you ever make it out to Diamond City, stop in and say hi. If you’re not too busy patching up the local wildlife, that is.”

“Right. Where can I find you?”

“Just look for the neon, kid. Can’t miss it.” _ Kid? _With a wink and another quick look around, he stepped fully out into the open, carefully cocking the pistol. “Oh, and when you get to Sanctuary, tell ‘em the private Dick says hello, and that he’ll self-destruct in their house next time they take a pack of his smokes again.” And just like that, he was on his way. After all these years, Arcade still aspired to that level of smooth. Like something out of an old movie -- not that he really watched any movies that didn’t star gladiators back in the day.

He followed his detour and got back on the path to Sanctuary. Fewer raiders this side of town, but no shortage of distant gunfire. That was probably the case in most of the city, he imagined. Still, there was something about it now… the air around here, the tingling excitement of danger. He’d felt it first by the towers, having gotten complacent, maybe, about the local population of degenerates. They were the same here as they were anywhere, but in that moment, crouched behind that bit of fence not a few dozen feet away from a raider settlement… He almost _ missed _fighting them. The smell of gunpowder, the constant ringing in his ears. For a minute, he was reminded of the Mojave, of his life back then. Of the Courier. And it tasted so sweet, he almost couldn’t get it off his tongue.

The further northwest he got, the more he saw signs cropping up; scrap wood with white paint. “_This way to Diamond City_.” It practically made his pulse vibrate.

Sanctuary was safe, though, and he was getting too damn stiff to keep running around, fueled only by some centuries-old snack foods, a couple hours of sleep and water that felt like static. He could probably settle there and comfortably live out the rest of his life as a big city doctor turned small-town family physician. It was a tale as old as time. It was… quaint.

And _ God_, did he hate that. That wasn’t him, never was. If he wanted ‘safe’, he would have stayed as a researcher with the Followers and never gotten involved with the Courier in the first place. He never would have left Freeside, and he knew that. Maybe… just maybe, this was the purpose he was looking for all along, the thing that led him to the Commonwealth in the first place,

_ God-fucking-dammit, Arcade. You dumbass_.

Despite all his rage, his legs still reset their course. He unchecked Sanctuary, closed his map, and followed the signs, deeper and deeper into the city until the sun came through a break in the buildings, and there it was: Diamond City. Honestly, it was… kind of an eyesore. It was actually really ugly from out there.

But nevertheless, he had made it. A new life right in front of him.

The Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth, so sayeth the radioman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA I DID IT BITCHES  
I BROUGHT BACK ARCADE
> 
> Anyway. Favorite follower in FONV, and not just because he was blonde and had a nice voice. Not like those are my ultimate weaknesses or anything. He actually had a good story and wasn't a tragic little queen.
> 
> Also! Nick Valentine! I wanted to do something to show that he doesn't just sit around waiting for the Sole to come around and take him on a trip. He's a goddamn career detective, he has places to be!
> 
> Pairing a character from a canon that takes place on the other side of the country with someone who is... very much not up his usual alley is an idea that came out of the literal great blue beyond but, fuck me, I love it anyway.
> 
> I honestly kind of want to make this a series, like an actually CONTINUOUS series, not just a bunch of semi-related one-shots. But, uh... Hey, depends on if anyone wants to actually see that. Is this... crack? I just work here, man, I don't know anything.
> 
> Anyway! Hope you enjoyed, but if you didn't, shit, go find someone you do enjoy! Plenty of good writers out there, I'm just doing this for fun 'cause I don't sleep anymore lmao.
> 
> Special shoutout to HowRis (more special than usual, oop) for even giving me the idea to do something with Nick. Sometimes I get so stuck in my Date/Nanse bubble that I forget the other characters are a thing. Whoops.
> 
> More to come?

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA I DID IT BITCHES  
I BROUGHT BACK ARCADE
> 
> Anyway. Favorite follower in FONV, and not just because he was blonde and had a nice voice. Not like those are my ultimate weaknesses or anything. He actually had a good story and wasn't a tragic little queen.
> 
> Also! Nick Valentine! I wanted to do something to show that he doesn't just sit around waiting for the Sole to come around and take him on a trip. He's a goddamn career detective, he has places to be!
> 
> Pairing a character from a canon that takes place on the other side of the country with someone who is... very much not up his usual alley is an idea that came out of the literal great blue beyond but, fuck me, I love it anyway.
> 
> I honestly kind of want to make this a series, like an actually CONTINUOUS series, not just a bunch of semi-related one-shots. But, uh... Hey, depends on if anyone wants to actually see that. Is this... crack? I just work here, man, I don't know anything.
> 
> Anyway! Hope you enjoyed, but if you didn't, shit, go find someone you do enjoy! Plenty of good writers out there, I'm just doing this for fun 'cause I don't sleep anymore lmao.
> 
> Special shoutout to HowRis (more special than usual, oop) for even giving me the idea to do something with Nick. Sometimes I get so stuck in my Date/Nanse bubble that I forget the other characters are a thing. Whoops.
> 
> More to come?


End file.
